


We need to talk about Noctis

by orphan_account



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Prophecy (Final Fantasy XV), Chubby Prompto Argentum, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fat Shaming, Gladiolus isn't perfect either, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, M/M, Manipulation, Minor Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia, Minor Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Noctis is bad, Non-Consensual Spanking, Omen Trailer Noctis Lucis Caelum, Onesided Noctis/Regis really, Parent/Child Incest, Regis just wants to love his child, Sexual Fantasy, Spanking, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:15:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24617431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: On Monday morning #weneedtotalkaboutNoctis is trending.~~~The problems arrive at age eight or so, but nobody really knows for sure. Maybe the signs were always there, written in the way the prince smiled or walked, but it never mattered because nobody was reading.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Ignis Scientia, Noctis Lucis Caelum & Regis Lucis Caelum, Noctis Lucis Caelum/Regis Lucis Caelum, Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 12
Kudos: 59





	1. Prologue

Insomnia, late August.

Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum is born underneath an unlit, starless night. It's the hottest recorded night that Insomnia has seen in years, maybe even centuries.

Aulea wasn't very happy about the pregnancy to begin with, but laying in the bed; pale and tired, the woman seemed questionably troubled by the baby in her arms. A disconnect between mother and child, the first of many tragedies. Regis looks at his son with love and admiration, yet as he glanced over at his wife all he saw was a loathing that atypical to be placed upon Aulea's usually gentle demeanor.

"My love? What is it?" Regis asks, urgently. The woman stares at the babe on her chest, who's skin was as feverish as hellfire and hair as dark as a burnt out sun. "Aulea..." Regis whispers. "What is the matter, aren't you happy? This is our _son,_ our Noctis."

"He isn't right..." The woman whispers as if exhausted of life itself. "Reggie? He isn't right." The second blow is just as devastating as the first. Regis gathers the newborn in his arms with concern as his wife begins to sob, uncontrollably.

"You are exhausted, any person who has just been through what you have would be. I'll have one of the midwives get you something to help you sleep.

Those words... _He isn't right._

Aulea refuses to breastfeed Noctis days after the birth. She can't even dare look the babe in the eyes for too long, as if afraid the child would steal her soul. The woman could only bare seconds of holding him before pushing him into the nearest set of arms.

Regis has to get a wet nurse for the boy. Annie, the young woman is a bright and comforting personality who coos when she first lays eyes upon the prince. Regis trusts her.

"Aulea, my star. Noctis needs you." Regis rationalizes, taking his wife's hand into his own. She's so cold, slipping away day by day. The woman shakes her head.

"He's _different_ Regis. I saw it in his eyes, by the gods I saw it in his eyes." The woman goes silent, so suddenly. It startles Regis enough to call a nurse.

Aulea dies not too long after that conversation. Complications from the birth they say. 

_He isn't right..._

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will deal with alot of sensitive material. I suggest you read the tags for a general depiction of what you are walking into. This is also your general warning to be advised and be responsible for the content you have chosen to read. I condone NONE of these things in this fic IRL and you shouldn't either. 
> 
> Now with that out of the way..... Happy reading! 💙


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why are you acting like this?" Regis hisses. His tone goes thinner, a tremor of emotion played on his lips. "Have I failed you, Noct?" The man asks with genuine fear. 
> 
> Noctis found the silence that followed these questions incredibly irksome.

The problems arrive at age eight or so, but nobody really knows for sure. Maybe the signs were always there, written in the way the prince smiled or walked, but it never mattered because nobody was reading.

King Regis was never around, not like he needed to be, and maybe this bothered Noctis more than than boy would of liked to admit. Maybe it _frustrated_ the young prince that his father was wasting away for the sake of a stupid wall, and Ignis was the one who had to take care of him. 

"Noctis." Regis chokes out. "Stop that."

The prince let's out a highpitched whine. It settles in the back of his throat rising up in a cutoff, fragmented way.

Dinner is awkward.

Not because of the few uncomfortable conversations that the father and son exchange, but because Noctis is masturbating at the table.

The child is old enough to know that doing such things in the view of others is unacceptable. Yet, Noctis isn't even shameful in the fact that his hands are down his pants pleasuring himself infront of his own father and Citadel kitchen staff. The prince squirms in his seat.

Regis is sure the boy is doing this just to spite him.

"Noctis." The man warns in a low tone, clearly embarrassed over the displayed behavior. This wasn't the first time the prince had compulsively masturbated in public. Ignis had been complaining about this type of behavior the prince was exhibited for a while now. Time and time again explaining to his leige when was appropriate to do such things. You would think the boy would understand at such an age, but still Regis recieved reports on his desk about his son's inappropriate behavior.

Regis has to practice a new breathing method to stay level headed. "Noctis." He addresses clinically. "It's okay to do that, just not in _public._ Me and Ignis _both_ talked to you about this."

The boy isn't even listening, his eyes are closed and his mouth opened curled in defiant scorn. The boy makes a louder noise, Regis feels his face become warm at the sight. Not knowing what else to do he glances at the remaining staff in exasperation. "Leave." The king implores trying to save his own dignity. They bow to the order, scurrying away like rats exposed to the light.

Regis looks back at his son. The boy's eyes are staring at him white and half-lidded. Noctis continues even with his father's warning to stop; sweat is slicked in his hair and on face.

"Mmm.."

The boy finishes with an audible gasp, a sound that Regis could have gone his entire lifetime without hearing. The man visibly flinches away from the sound, as if burned.

"Why are you acting like this?" Regis hisses a flash of anger sparks in his brilliant iries, but as quick as it was ignited it was extinguished. His tone goes thinner, a tremor of emotion played on his lips making the man seem much more vulnerable. "Have I failed you, Noct?" The man asks with genuine fear.

Noctis found the silence that followed these questions incredibly irksome. "I hate you." The prince states with an impassive voice knowing that would get a rise out of the man. There's an uncanny smile put behind his words.

The agitated silence stretches between them. Regis is calm, which pisses Noctis off.

"Go to your room. _Now_."

"Whatever." The boy snaps, buttoning up his pants and pushing away from the table. "I'm bored anyway." The movement causes the dishes to crash to the floor, shattering into a million shards of sharp white china.

* * *

Everyone in the Citadel understands Noctis is a little off. Easy to anger, dead in the eyes. Prone to violence with a mendacious tongue and quick wit. People were scared of the prince. Scared of his _Son._

It was Regis' job to understand his the prince, yet at every opportunity the man seems to fail at that. The king knocks on the boy's door first before anything else, lest he wants to startle the child. Tonight could have went better, as some of the blame falls to Regis for not properly educating his son on his body when he was younger.

"Noctis?" Regis calls, opening the door leading into the room.

The room tidy; vaguely reminiscent of a child's bedroom. There's a toy chest at the foot of the bed, adorned with plush animals and creatures that Noctis no longer plays with. The carbuncle figure that Regis had gifted his son sits proud on the desk beside the bed. Noctis, himself, is laying ontop of the bed, muttering something with his back turned to the door. Regis swallows, throat suddenly dry.

"Noct." The man announces, cautiously sitting on the edge of the bed. "What is the matter starlight?" Regis lays a hand on the boy's back, but Noctis pulls away from the man. A awkward silence befalls them.

"If you are embarrassed—"

"I'm not." The prince states with an edge to his voice.

"Then what?" Another long pause. "Noctis...I know a lot has happened over the last few months and I shall carry some of that blame, but this is no excuse for your inappropriate behavior as of late. It is not befitting for a young prince."

"Get out...I'm tired"

Regis places a hand on his child's shoulder. "Alright, if that is what you want, son."

\----

Noctis sets fire to the Citadel library in the afternoon.

The library burned like a bonfire set with gasoline. The orange flames were garish against the only brilliant paint. Black smoke filled the halls suffocating all life. The grand door leading to the library was the first to be burnt down, paint bubbled consumed in seconds by the intense heat. It was an inferno that would never burn itself out.

People yells and scatter, upset in the most vulnerable ways as they evacuate the entire left wing of the Citadel.

Noctis stands in the hall nearby the smoldering fires; he's covered head to toe in soot and smoke. The boy doesn't move to help, he only watches the chaos around him with inquisitive eyes. As the inferno ate everything around it, Noctis smiled.

\------

Regis is pulled from a meeting to assess the situation. The council argues that he should evacuate with everyone else in the left wing, but the man vacates the order with an iron will.

"My son is unaccounted for. His advisor is certain he was in the library when the fires sparked. They haven't seen hide nor hair of him at the evacuation area and I have feared the worst."

"My Majesty perhaps we shouldn't go. I would much rather advocate that we get you to safety before doing anything in haste."

"Nonsense Clarus, I have to see to it that my son is okay. Worry not for my wellbeing." Regis turns away, offering his shield an ambivalent smile.

Clarus doesn't stress the idea any longer, instead he focuses his energy into helping Regis search for his lost son.

While searching the premises outside the fire's dominion; Clarus stumbles upon Brutus. The librarian, and one of the mamy caretakers to the massive library.

The man had an acute face, sharp with intellect. He isn't any older than his majesty; about thirty-eight or thirty-nine. The frightened librarian is wiping the sweat from his brow and assessing his injuries when Clarus walks up on him.

"Brutus..." The shield calls, watching as the man stumbles to his feet gracelessly.

"Sir, I swear—swear I turned away for a second—a second and the little bugger pulled some matches out and lit the place up."

"At ease." Clarus places a hand on the mans shoulder, directing him to relax. "Who?"

"The prince!" He squealed. "That boy is the evil incarnate, I swear to you."

"I believe it." The words shock Brutus, gods they shock Clarus too. It's just...Something is wrong with that boy and this was something that he would do in order to receive the attention he desired. "Safety, and aid is being set up a few blocks away from the Citadel. I suggest you seek medical help there."

"Thank you, sir!" The man runs with his tail tucked between his legs. Clarus doesn't blame him in the slightest bit.

The prince is found not far from Brutus. He's next to the burning exit of the Citadel's left wing, perched on the stairs watching people run out of the inferno with horrified expression on their faces. Some burnt almost to ashes. It's something a _child_ shouldn't watch so intently. _But this boy never did act like a proper child, now did he?_

"Regis!" Clarus finally calls for his majesty after observing the boy for long enough. Noctis doesn't look up from the flames ypon hearing his father's name.

"Clarus? What is—"

Regis runs when he sees his son.

"Noctis, are you hurt?" The man asks. The boy impassively shakes his head. "Thank the gods," Regis whispers pulling the boy into a tight hug.

Noctis doesn't hug him back, but does breathe his father in. He smells like tailored clothes and cologne; and probably a bit of smoke now. Clarus is still watching the boy with cautious eyes. Noctis knew the man was too keen for his own good. The shield percieved him as a threat to the king, rather than his son.

Noctis hates this man. Always by his father's side.

"Dad—"

"I talked to Brutus. He said that Noctis was the one who _lit_ the fire."

The man is like a serpent, whispering harmful thoughts into his father's ear. Noctis wanted the shield gone. Noctis could protect his father, he alone would cut down any person who threatens his life.

Regis paused, stunned as comprehends what it is his shield was saying.

Fury swelled up in prince Noctis' stomach. _Stupid man, Noctis_ ** _loathed_** _him and his_ ** _stupid_** _family._

Regis pulled the boy away from his grasp, and with a stern expression watched the child for any signs of deceit. "My light, is this true?"

"No!" Noctis sputters out, clinging onto his father's robes as if it were a lifeline. The tears come as easy as a smile or frown. "I would never do that! Tell him to stop dad." Regis pets his son's raven black hair, an attempt to calm the boy down; afterall, they did not need a tantrum on their hands.

"Why would Brutus have the gall to lie about something like that?" Mockery crept to the shield's voice, as he forced the narrative of what happened onto the kings conscious. "I'm sure the prince still has the matches stashed away somewhere, ready to set another blaze—"

"He's lying! I was just studying and the place caught on fire. Honest!" Noctis whips his gaze to his father's contemplative face. "You believe me, don't you?"

Regis is quiet. Unsure of what to believe. A heavy oppression brewed upon the air as the king opened his mouth to speak. "Noctis..." The man bends down to his son's eye level. "Did you set the fire?" Regis places a hand upon his son's fiery skin. The boy was always so unnaturally warm.

"No!" Noctis spit out in incredulously, pulling away. "Why aren't you believing me?"

"Noctis—"

"You believe _him_ over your son? What kind of dad are you?!" Noctis exploded. Regis tries to rationalize with the boy, but the child completely shuts down. "Do you hate me?"

"No!" Regis ushered his son into his arms. He decorates the boy's face in cherished kisses all while Clarus glared. Clarus could read people, and no matter how much Regis loved that boy, prince Noctis would always be a _manipulator_.

"I love you more than the stars Noctis!" Another set of affectionate kisses on the boy's cheeks and crown. "You're my sweet boy!"

Clarus watched the exchange with apprehensive eyes.

* * *

The damage dealt to the library is extensive. It's all people talk about for the next three days. The repercussions of the fire take up most of his father's time. He does not join Noctis for lunch or dinner.

It's stupid, but what's even more stupid is Clarus trying to expose to everyone that _he_ was the one who set fire to the library. Ontop of that the imbecile's son is a brute in training. Leaving welts and bruises everywhere he grabbed and punched. 

"Training is ass." Noctis complains one day to his advisor. The boy is laying on his stomach, studying Ignis with cold eyes. "I've got brusies everywhere, and it hurts. Can't I skip tomorrow and everyday after?"

"Mmmh." Ignis hums in thought, swinging his gaze between vacuuming and staring at the prince. "Theoretically no one is stopping you from skipping your training sessions your Highness. Just realize there will be reactions to every action you take whether they are good or bad is entirely up to you." Ignis adjusts his glasses, offering Noctis a strict glance. "Also, do refrain from using cursewords. It reflects poor intellect."

That was Ignis for you. So _uptight_.

"Ass isn't a bad word it's a part of the body, just like dick."

Noctis rolls his eyes, watching as the advisor cleans up around his room. Casually, the boy reaches for his pillow and throws it to the area Ignis had just cleared. He watches the older teen for any signs of hostility or annoyance, but it never comes. Ignis picks the pillow up and sets it back to it's rightful place without compliant.

Noctis wonders how many times he could do that and how many times it would be before Iggy lost his cool. These thoughts soon bored the boy enough that he stopped having them.

The prince flips onto his back.

"Also, something is stopping me and that something is a disgusting brute named Gladiolus."

"Gladio isn't nearly as bad as you say he is. Perhaps you could try connecting with him rather than calling him an oh what was it again" Iggy pauses, lashes fluttering as he looked up in faux thought. Suddenly, the advisor snaps, pointing at his moody charge. "Disgusting brute?"

"Shutup..." Noctis mutters, lost in thought. One way or another he was going to skip training and hurt Clarus Amicita.

\-----

It comes to Noctis in a dream, like a gift wrapped up all pretty. 

"Iggy, I don't want to go to training today..." Noctis pouts, hands fidgeting with anything around him to make his distressed state seem more believable. Ignis stares at the boy from the corner of his eyes. The advisor sighs shuffling his papers.

"This again? Noctis you know you have duties—"

The _perfect_ way to skip training while simultaneously hurting Clarus.

"I don't want to train because... Gladio touches me in the showers." The lie falls from his mouth with unnatural ease. The reaction to the lie is immediate, and visceral.

Ignis snaps the book in his hand closed. His green eyes may as well be pinpricks. "What?"

It's the first time Noctis has seen the fifteen year old react to something with _genuine_ emotion. It seems his advisor wasn't a robot afterall.

Noctis loves the way his eyes go wide and his mouth trembles with slight disgust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha yess, now the FFXV fandom can experience my sin. I have no idea why I wrote this. 
> 
> Also a few notes
> 
> -There is no prophecy. 
> 
> \- Ignis is seven years older than Noctis. Gladio is ten years older than Noctis and three years older than Ignis. 
> 
> \- The gods play a minor role. They aren't as prevalent. The same thing with the starscourge. 
> 
> -Niflehiem is still enemies with Lucis. 
> 
> -Ardyn is ummm— who is that— haha. He went poof.
> 
> Anyways, I appreciate every comment and kudos. Say hi on tumblr @//peterfuckingenglert.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Worry sits inches below Gladiolus Amicita's face. His eyes remain dry and face impassive despite how butterflies of anxiety have suddenly blossomed in the deepest pit of his stomach.

The sun shakes the trees up from their nap. A torrent of gold catches on Noctis' open window and trickles off into his room.

The prince is playing some generic 2-bit fantasy game on his ancient portable. A sigh of contempt escapes his mouth as Ignis leaves in search for King Regis; Noctis' father.

"I'll be back, highness." His retainer states casually with a tight smile and shakey breath. The prince doesn't look up from his game. Only hums in acknowledgment, the click of the door softly closing barely registers to the child.

The game makes a shrill as the prince loses his round. **YOU LOST** flashes large against the grainy screen; the boy throws the device across the room. It spins and skids to a stop, the screen now shattered and pitch black.

Noctis _hates_ losing. The boy gets up to retrieves the portable from the floor. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, assessing the now broken screen. "Piece of crap anyway." The boy mutters to himself. 

The door opens not too long after the boy's childish reaction to losing his game. Noctis is sluggish as he drags his eyes up to the door.

In the doorway a rather distraught Ignis stands beside— A shiver shoots up Noctis' spine at the sight of the Marshal. The prince places the portable down on the table in a manner bright with fear and curiousity. _How bothersome._ The Marshal was one person who seemed more aware than what was acceptable; not unlike his father's _stupid_ shield.

Ignis stares at the broken game in distress. That was the third one. 

"W-Where's my dad?" The prince whispers in an uptight shrill of a voice that tried to hard to imitate what a _real_ kid was suppose to sound like. The boy's eyes are blown wide with unknown depth to them.

Ignis spurs forward. Suffocating the tantrum that was rising from the prince "His majesty is in a meeting right now. Cor is here to help us sort this thing out, is that ok Noctis?" Ignis' expression is tight with worry.

The prince shakes his head a firm "No." Leaving his mouth. "I want my dad."

"Ah, okay. How about you tell me what what happened in the showers while we wait for him to get out of his meeting?"

In reluctance, Noctis nods. "Okay."

* * *

King Regis hates shortbread cookies. These cookies in particular are _strawberry_ shortbread cookies. The monarch doesn't know what to say, so he smiles tensely at the woman in front of him with a grin of anticipation spread thin across her red coloured lips.

"How lovely, thank you," Regis affirms with a nod; the smell of shortbread is nauseating and quite unbearable.

Councilwoman Ryun relaxes, smilingly sweetly as Regis takes the aforementioned shortbread cookies from her primly manicured hands. Ryun was the youngest on the council, after her grandmother passed away last fall she was indoctrinated. The girl of course meant well; wanting to do something nice for the standing monarch of Lucis. Ryun is sharp witted, yet still naive in the ways that were endearing.

The click of her shoes against the marble flooring is loud. Once the woman is gone Clarus doesn't hesitate to take the cookies and dump them in the nearest bin.

"Highly Inappropriate." The man whispers with little regard to the woman who baked them; he dusts off the crumps from hands looking up at Regis who seemed happy that the shortbread was gone, even if he was a bit guilty.

"If your father were alive to see that he would've had a heartattack. _Councilwoman_ ," Clarus scoffs. "That girl is much too young to be a councilmember. Shameless, giving a monarch _cookies_ _."_

Regis only smiles at Clarus. He knew that the man's intent wasn't malicious, yet his words were still taken in stride.

"I thought it to be sweet." The king replies.

Clarus doesn't say anything else on the matter, but he does stare at his charge for a while. "Regis." He finally breaks calling for the man. The monarch almost seems to jump at the soft call of his name. Clarus hardly uses it. To think upon it Regis is certain the man doesn't use his name unless the situation calls for it. 

"Um— yes, Clarus?"

"You don't sense something _strange_ about Prince Noctis?" The man asks, waiting for Regis to respond. The king places a finger on his chin and looks up. Suddenly, the man flashes a sly grin at his shield, as if the conversation was a funny joke.

"Well the boy has always been a bit strange don't you think?"

Clarus can't help but see that when Regis smiles he gets crows feet by his eyes. The shield's grievances seem to be going over his friend's head, or the king was simply _ignoring_ them. Clarus reaches out, stopping the man in his tracks. Regis let's a sigh out, too loud to be accidental.

"I'm serious."

Regis shrugs the hand off, that imperiously confident smile adorning his face once again. "This isn't still about that horrible accident in the Library—"

"It wasn't an accident," Clarus cuts the king off. The tension between them forces itself up like bile, until it breaches the surface in a messy and painful manner. The king straightens his back, done with this conversation, but Clarus defends his claims with an iron will and a beechful tone. "Noctis has a tendency to light things on fire when he is angry or mad at _you."_

"He has never lit things _aflame_ —"

"At age five he lit his old nanny's dress on fire because she told him you were too busy to play."

Clarus sees Regis flinch at the mention of Noctis' old nanny.

Cecilia was a typical woman, nothing stood out about her to Regis. She did her job as a nanny finely. It was a shame he had to let her go, but a woman who could not keep her eyes on his son had no place looking after him. Regis shakes his head remembering the woman who always dressed in excitable clothing.

"An honest mistake on her part." Regis nods as if trying to convince himself of what he was saying. "She shouldn't have let the boy get so close to those lit up candles —" Regis turns away, and by then Clarus realizes the man doesn't want to hear what his child has done, but he continues knowing he had to get through to the man somehow.

"Brutus told me and everyone who would listen that Noctis was the one who—"

"And he has been dealt with accordingly." Regis snipes back walking along the corridor back to the throne room. "Spreading such rumours among staff and representatives was not to be tolerated. Plus the new Librarian, Augustus, is a very nice man indeed don't you think? He's humble."

"Noctis is—"

"Your majesty."

Cor Leonis calls. He stands near the large doors his expression is tight and emotionless as always. The man blinks at his King, weary only when he sees Clarus not too far behind the Monarch. Regis isn't sure why the Marshal has made a abrupt appearance, but he smiles at the man either way. When he sees his son hovering behind him, however, his stomach freezes up.

"What's wrong?" His own voice fills his ears, as he runs to his child's side. Noctis seems to cling to his father's arms.

"Dad!" Noctis shouts into the man's nice suit. His voice cracks and shatters against the air. Regis feels his own body grow cold, but maybe it's just that his own body heat fills like nothing compared to the inferno that was his son's skin.

"Noctis?" Regis looks down at his quivering son, then up at his marshal. 

"Regis, we need to talk..." Cor takes a moment to glance up at Clarus. It's an odd detail to Regis but one he doesn't miss. "Alone." The marshal adds in a light almost testy tone.

Clarus almost looks alarmed by the indication. "Cor—" Clarus protests, but Regis holds his hand out, silencing him almost immediately.

"Clarus, stay here please."

"But-m—"

"That's an order."

Clarus retreats, bowing reluctantly to the man. His order absolute. "Yes your Majesty." The words come out thick like molasses in searing summer heat.

\------

"After training... Gladio showers with me..." The prince complains softly to his father. Regis furrows his brow, staring up at Cor for answers, but the man only glances down at Noctis.

"Noct, what do you mean, Star?"

"He makes me keep body secrets. He says he likes my butt, and rubs his junk off on my backside. He told me not to say anything! "

Regis looks up at Cor, betrayed. His expression is as open as it has been in years. He's hurt as if his soul had been ripped apart and hastily brought back together. "Noctis." He whispers to himself, gathering the small child into his arms.

Noctis is quick to relax in his father's embrace. It's really warm and nice. Nicer than Noctis could ever remember. He wants to stay like this forever. He would do whatever it took to stay like this _forever._

"How long?" This question is directed at Cor. The marshal stiffens underneath the broken stare of the king.

"He's says only a week."

A week? Had Regis not noticed? He was so busy that he couldn't even notice changes in his son's behavior... He hadn't been able to tell something was wrong. He was never there for his son.

"Does Clarus know?" Regis asks suddenly his voice is dead, as he holds his son closer. His _light. How could someone hurt such a baby, such a small and frightened child._

"No," Answers Cor. The Marshal looks between the king and his son.

\-----

Noctis was intoxicated on father's attention. They lay on his bed and Regis _sobs_ to him with hurt laced in his sweetened words.

"Noctis, I should have protected you. Forgive me. Gods forgive me." The man gasps out. "I love you so much, please forgive me."

Noctis can only focus on the way his father smells, always so clean and fresh. The boy nuzzles his face further into the man's neck almost affectionately. He wishes his bed smelled like how his father did.

"It's okay Dad." Whispers the boy. The boy runs his hands through the man's salt and pepper hair. The child's words aren't sweet or apologetic. They fall empty, but Regis doesn't notice. He holds his son close to him; afraid of losing the only thing he had left.

Regis was always self-conscious when crying. The thought of a thousand eyes perched on his back judging him always made his tears sparse, but now the man cried freely to his son. He sobs on the linen sheets. "Forgive me." He whispers as his voice turns hoarse.

Noctis dislikes the sound of crying, but looking at his father's crumbling figure the boy tries to soothe him as an unexpected emotion churns in the child's stomach.

It's not the emptiness the boy is so used to.

"Dad It's okay...shhh...I'm sorry." The words come out thick and childish. 

To Noctis "I'm sorry" are just _words_. Words you say when you want someone to stop looking at you werid, or to make someone do what you want quicker after you've done something they don't like. He says "I'm sorry" to Ignis alot, when the teen is angry with him.

Noctis nuzzles his father again.

"Daddy, I love you too," Noctis whispers, his lips gracing his father's cool skin on his exposed neck. Noctis wants to run his tongue along the man's pulse. He wants to nibble on it. Just the knowledge that one bite would end his father's life makes his insides throb. "Don't cry, it's not your fault."

Regis embraces his child.

* * *

Worry sits inches below Gladiolus Amicita's face. His eyes remain dry and face impassive despite how butterflies of anxiety have suddenly blossomed in the deepest pit of his stomach. Cor had said nothing when he picked him up from the training room. The man had only dragged him to this interrogation room and locked the door.

Noctis hadn't showed up for training, and Gladio just knows this has something to do with the shrimp. He had asked if the boy was okay the when he first arrived, however none of his questions have been answered in the last hour he's been sitting here.

Gladio looks around the place from his seat. 

This was a room designated for treasonous crime and acts of terror. Gladio doesn't belong here. That worry creeps up to his face again, this time the boy has a harder time disguising it. The soft outline of his face makes him look younger; _vulnerable_.

The room is cramped. It makes Gladio claustrophobic.

The door is a normal metal door you can find in an office building, but there's a large window, probably double sided where Gladio can see his expressionless features if he looks up. The table is wooden; the chair is uncomfortable and made of a thick cheap plastic that is too small for Gladio's large stature.

"Hey?" The man finally calls out, after an hour of silence. Nobody responds. Leaving him alone with his echo and shadow.

When Cor finally walks in not three minutes later Gladiolus is already on edge. The man closes the door behind him and hands the younger man a cup. Suprisingly, the shield in waiting takes it. As it touches his lips Gladio realizes It's water. Lukewarm, but still it's _something._

"How are you Gladiolus?"

The sound of Cor's voice startles Gladio. The man stares at the Marshal with piercing eyes. Gladiolus shrugs a comical smile wavers on his lips. "A little confused, but alright?"

"I'm sorry for dragging you here so abruptly, we just need to get a few things checked out." Cor nods subtly. It so subtle that Gladio nods along with the man still having no idea what was happening. "So, do you like kids Gladiolus?" Cor queries, quick like a speed attack.

The man freezes. That was a— a _werid_ question? "Uh. Yeah. They're a little annoying but I have a little sister—" Gladio readjusts his confusion toward Cor. "Is everything alright?" The younger male asks, perplexed by the way Cor was staring at him. Criticizing him.

"Everything's fine."Cor rationalizes with a monotone voice. "Do you think about having _sex_ with kids Gladio?"

You know that feeling of being punched in the gut, and for a few seconds after the wind has been _knocked_ out of you, you think you're going to die? That's how Gladiolus felt. The man doubles over, kicking the chair out from under him.

"What the fuck?"

Cor watches Gladio with clinical appraisal. "Did you touch Noctis inappropriately in the shower?"

Gladio's face falls faster than an anchor at sea; drifting further down into the bottomless pit that was the ocean. In that instant his face contorted alive with wide eyes stretched open and a mouth agape and struggling to produce words. "W-What?" The young male finally sighs out in a single breath.

\----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me! I forgot I had this in my drafts :0 I appreciate all the comments and kudos my lil sinners. 💙💙😖
> 
> Chat with me on tumblr @/peterfuckingenglert! Also this chapter is hereby dedicated to ThisIsTheDungeonThatNeverEnds cause you single handlely pulled me outta a writing rut 👏👏👁👄👁


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the King merely blinks at the boy's repulsive actions Noctis doesn't hesitate to grab one of the heavy books from it's designated spot inside his bookcase, and throw it at Regis with little care for anyone's a safety.

"I lied." Noctis finally admits to Cor almost three weeks later.

It's a nonchalant thing the boy says from his place on his bed. Cor has to do a double take once the words fall to his ears. Underneath the uncomfortable light of Noctis' room they stare at eachother. Cor is the first to break off his gaze, awkwardly. There is no hesitation or mercy to the child's words only truth. The chilliness of the boy's tone implied he wasn't apologetic for the grievances he has caused.

"Alright." Cor states with an impassive voice. Eyes snuffed of their warmth travel back to the child's apathetic gaze. "Why did you lie?" Queries the Marshal.

With the coldest smile Cor has seen on a child's face the boy giggled offering nothing other than, "Cause why not?"

* * *

The King's office is located near the audience chamber. The office was still filled with that tacky gold that King Mors seemed so fond of. Family portraits painted in high priced oils hung in those dreaded golden frames underneath the domed ceiling. More gold was embroided along the edges of the walls and incorporated in the decade old drapes on the large window behind the desk, overlooking over the city.

Regis doesn't look up from the Kingsglaive reports. Cor can tell the man is _exhausted._ The Marshal stares at the ring in disdain; if he could he would help uplift the burden from his friend. Although small, the piece of jewelry has a smothering presence that left Cor extremely bitter. 

Cor clears his throat obnoxiously at the door, watching as Regis wrenched his gaze upward smiling softly at his friend. Cor doesn't have to look at the man long to know that the nights haven't been treating the king too kind. Despite his attempts at appearing upbeat the man looked quite grim and sullen.

"Ah, what brings you here Cor?" The king questions.

"It's about Noctis."

\-------

Cor brings up the possibility of getting the prince some sort of child therapist after he alerts Regis of the boy's dangerous string of lies.

The man turns the idea down. Irritated Cor tries another approach on the matter.

"Regis. I'm not asking you, I'm telling you." Cor grabs his Kings arm with a sudden haste. "Prince Noctis needs to be evaluated. His behavior has been too despicable to be ruled out as a coincidence."

"He's just acting out—"

"He _lied_ about Gladiolus molesting him!" Cor breaks, hissing the words out as if they had been stewing until they turned acetous. "He needs help. You know as well as I do that this behavior could be a cry for help." This is said with more composure. The Marshal watches his king think it over. Finally, Regis looks up, offering a perplexed frown.

"I'll talk to him." He answered politely, yet his reply had an air of superiority.

Knowing it's the best answer he's going to get, Cor nods pulling out the spare chair from neat corner of the room. There's a pregnant pause as an awkward silence settles between the two friends. Regis let's his sigh feel the room, as if suffering from some sort of mental depletion.

"You and Clarus should also start talking. You two haven't been like this since you ran away all those years back to become what was it again?" Cor's voice hung in the air as his mouth stretches into a sly smile, baiting Regis for an answer. The man stares at him suspiciously.

Without fail the king caves, rolling his impressive blue eyes and putting down his embroidered pen; Regis' eyes twinkled with a reminiscent memory. "A _rockstar."_ He answers reliving his young humiliation.

Smiling harder, Cor points at Regis as he made his way back toward the door. "I'm never letting you live that one down, _your majesty."_

"I'd never expected any less of you Cor."

\------

"Go ahead Noctis," Regis prompts the boy, nudging his shoulder very gently as if he were as fragile as porcelain and precious as pearls.

"I'm Sorry." Noctis says, barely above a whisper. The child looks up at Clarus and his son. Bearing forth a mocking grin the weight of his father's hand on his shoulder stern and steady. "No hard feelings?" He questions innocently.

Clarus and Gladiolus have no choice but to move on. Accept the hslf-baked apology with stiff smiles and a pointed attitudes. No matter how many faux smiles they exchange the Shield-Charge dynamic has permanently shifted.

* * *

Regis orders an emergency council meeting addressing the Niflheim airships spotted carrying malicious bombs on the outskirts of Lucian territory. The meeting is long and tedious heeding no new developments for solving the issue, the meeting does nothing, but apply more of that weighed stress on the King's failing body.

The royal suite is located separately from the residential quarters. Clarus assists the king into the bath watching as his bones creak, subtly giving out on him. It's a sad sight to see. The man let's out a sharp exhale as aching joints and muscles soaked in the warm water.

"You're excused Clarus," Regis spoke, breaking the silence between them. Clarus lingers a while in the doorway as if struggling to come up with something to say. After a while the man nods, folding into a delicate bow.

"Yes, your majesty."

\-----

All behavior is a reflection of communication. Or, at least that's what Regis believed. The king had been busy making plans for retaliation against Niflehiem that it wasn't long before Noctis did something drastic to get his father's attention. On Tuesday Noctis calls his tutor some foul names that resulted in the woman running out of the Citadel crying. The sun was fading into the horizon painting the sky pink when Ignis alerts the king of the son's harsh namecalling and horrible behavior.

Regis notices the young man has a fresh cut just above where his cheekbone was. "Ignis, what happened there?" The king questions, slowly he presses a white handkerchief to the boy's wound. Ignis hesitates under the king's fixed gaze. His eyebrows snapped together with concern for the young advisor.

"Noct got fairly angry when I told him he had to apologize. He threw a plastic paperweight at me."

 _Tired_. His body alerts him, creaking underneath it's own weight. Nevertheless he gives Ignis a comforting smile.

"Where is he?"

* * *

The tantrum Noctis is throwing is a violent and desperate display of emotion that Regis is too exhausted to keep up with. The man stands guarded at the door where his son stares him down as if he _loathed_ his existence.

"Get OUT!" The boy yells until he's red in the face and dizzy in the head.

When the King merely blinks at the boy's repulsive actions Noctis doesn't hesitate to grab one of the heavy books from it's designated spot inside his bookcase, and throw it at Regis with little care for anyone's a safety. The man dodges gracefully, blue magic flickers off of him; Regis had just dodged in time for the book to hit the back wall with a low— _thud_.

"You're so stupid." The child hisses. "I don't want you around!" Noctis punches at his bed. "I don't care I'm not apologizing. Especially not to that dumb _woman._ "

There's a certain intensity in the boy's tone that frustrates the King.

"Noctis," Regis snaps, appalled at his son's behavior. The man takes another unsteady step closer to the boy, resting his frail hand on the mahogany bedframe. "You cannot speak to me in whatever way you deem fit. I am the parent, you are the _child._ You _will_ apologize to Ignis and your tutor tomorrow for all the trouble you've caused, that is **final**."

"Fuck you!"

It's a moment of silence that passes over them. Noctis' gaze trembles, until it falters away from his father's dead stare. Noctis doesn't feel himself being pulled up and off the bed, until he's already by his father's side. There's a quick swipe on his butt that doesn't quite register as a spanking until there is another, _heavier_ , swipe that actually hurt.

Noctis squirms in his father's lap, a string of creative and vulgar words dance on his lips; borne from anger and suprise.

His father had never hit him before. Especially not on his bottom.

Regis himself was surprised as well. Discipline wasn't his forte; all reprimandments and punishments were handled by Ignis, yet Regis made sure to reiterate several times to the teenager that punishment was never to be _physical_. Regis had one too many traumatic experiences in his own childhood that he'd rather not put Noctis through.

The man falters on the third smack. The hits were nothing like his father had done to him years ago, yet the king felt his stomach lerch uncomfortably.

"Fuck!" Noctis yells. The boy settles the churning in the Monarch's stomach. The man goes stone faced yet again, Regis sits on the bed redirecting Noctis to his feet. They are eye to eye, and Regis can't help but gently tuck a strand of loose raven-bkack hair behind his son's ear.

"Noctis, I'm sorry for hitting you, but you have been so incredibly terrible as of late." The man pauses to adjust his postion on the bed. In the low light his eyes look sad. "Please pull down your pants."

"You can't—"

"I can. Pants, now. Or would you rather I do it?" The question is a genuine one, quickly Noctis dismisses the idea.

The prince wasn't a very nervous person. He was usually confident in himself, but his father looked serious. Casually the boy pull down his pants. Underneath them he's wearing those stupid pair of moogle underwear that Ignis bought as a really shitty birthday gift last year.

"Come on." Regis pats his lap. "Belly down." Noctis doesn't resist as his father lays him down spread across his lap. It felt peculiar to the child. "Good boy." Regis pets the boy, an odd comfort that Noctis didn't know he needed until his father pulled his hand away. The boy tenses; cold hands tracing the outline of the scar on his back from the attack so many months ago.

Noctis doesn't need to see his father's face. He knew the man was staring at the scar with that intense look on his face that made Noctis' belly go warm inside. Thinking of the expression now made Noctis wiggle in discomfort. The prince felt his heart assert itself, thundering loud against his chest.

Regis started to pull at the child's underwear when Noctis protested with a yell of irritation and a kick. "Stop!" Noctis shouts. "I'm sorry okay, jeez. Stop!" There's a panic rising in the boy's voice that is too clear not to hear.

Regis mechanically pulls Noctis' arms away and pulls the underwear down. The first hit isn't as nearly as powerful as the second. Embarrassment is written on the prince's face as he struggled to get away from the force.

There's three more hits that left Noctis' bum feeling sore and his belly feeling warm.

His stomach was filling up with undesirable pleasure with each hit. The scream that erupts from Noctis' mouth is primal, it held a raw intensity. Regis ignores the boy giving him four more smacks. The prince gasps for air his ass feeling swollen.

The boy's bottom is a fresh cherry red, inflamed now and possibly bruised tomorrow. Satisfied, the king pulls the boy's pants and underwear up. The friction is the equivalent of fire against the sensitive skin. Tears collect in the boy's eyes and on his lengthy lashes; Noctis let's them fall in stubborn silence.

The prince was suppose to hate this feeling. Of humiliation and pain, but his belly was still tingly and pleasant inside feeling like it was going to burst. Shamefully Noctis looked down between his legs where his dick was impossibly hard.

Frustrated, Noctis screams as if his body was rebelling against it's own existence. Regis pulls the boy into his arm, letting him cling there needfully. "Shhh..." The man comforted rubbing circles and squares on the boy's back as he cried into his neck. "I love you Noctis. You took that punishment very well it must've been hard, hm? Do you want me to put some cream on your bottom?" Noctis doesn't respond so Regis presses a tentatively kiss to the boy's temple. "I'll be back."

The door opens and shuts leaving Noctis feeling hoarse and empty. The boy claws at the outline of his hard dick. Pain from his butt shoots up across his back like electricity. Noctis cries out quick to pull out and examine himself. He's flushed, hot precome already decorating his tip.

The door opens, Noctis doesn't try to cover himself up instead he spreads his legs, wondering what his father would say.

"Noctis?" Regis approaches, it's entertaining seeing his expressions change. Quickly, the man shuts the door behind him. "My star...What's wrong?".

"Dad..." Noctis whimpers. "My dick hurts."

"Noctis." The man warns, taking a step closer to examine the area.

"Dick 'snot a bad words it's a body part."

Regis puts the cream down on the dresser. He studies the boy with an apathetic gaze of a parent, but doesn't touch him. "Noctis can you— I need to see if there's something wrong, my star." Regis guides the boy, spreading his legs further so he could see the boy's parts better. Noctis was really red, flushed from his the tip of his head down to his bum. Regis places a hand on the tip wiping away the stickiness at the top. It was _burning._ The man pulls away as if scorched.

Noctis whines, the cold pads of his father's hands felt good against his heaty flesh. Noctis is so small, Regis' hands would engulf his prick. The _child_ found himself thinking about what that would look like.

"Dad?" Noctis whispers. 

Regis doesn't know what to say. So he doesn't say anything. Softly, the man lifts his son up and turns him around. The red on his butt is angry and aggressive. The man doesn't say anything as he applies the ointment. The boy moans underneath him, legs quivering from sensitivity. Once done, he zips the boy up and leaves the room, ashamed.

\------

Noctis apologizes to Ignis in the morning. His tutor had already resigned by the time he had woken up for breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is late 😅 sorry!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis frowns insincerely. Mocking what the prince thought real sympathy to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** This Chapter gets rough toward the end. It deals with violent thoughts and feelings. + Sensitive material

"The final answer is no, Noct." His father answers aggressively.

A sudden bitterness creeps along the prince's delicate features as he take a confrontational stride forward.

The clouds shift restlessly in the late August wind. The endless grey that hung overhead made the city of Insomnia look sad and tired as the day dragged on to a numb beat; colorless and monotone.

"Why not?" The prince demands, staring at his father with a reserved expression; crystalline eyes harden stubbornly at Regis' recalcitrant behavior. The prince is already twelve, set to turn thirteen in just a week or so; Regis can already forsee his son's teenage rebellion. The boy is growing up to have defined, lean muscles and sharp features that seem to border his mother and father's likeness everyday.

His attitude however, is still that of a crass and ill-mannered prince.

The lanky teen waits for his father's response impatiently. He shifts his weight from foot to foot attempting to ease the sporadic pain in his lower back. This does little to soothe the ache, only temporarily moves it from one location to the other. 

Regis doesn't have the energy to sigh. The monarch takes off the reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose to stare at his son; His vision is already failing him the ring has already taken so much. It rip chunks of his vitality out leaving nothing but a lethargic affliction. Instinctively, Regis reaches up and combs his hair back. It's a mess of black and gray. 

"Because I said—"

"Because I said so is a shitty answer."

"Sweet Shiva, Noctis!"

Regis slams his hand back down on the desk rattling the pens and pencils until they fall onto the floor. The boy doesn't flinch at the outburst. The king composes himself, glancing up at his awfully cold son.

"It's a dangerous thing to do. Even if the entire crownsguard there with you, it's still risky."

"Bullshit..." Noctis mutters, face darkening into a despairing expression. "You said I could have anything for my birthday! It's just _school._ Not war, dad. I just—" Noctis blows the overgrown black fringe from his eyes. Underneath the fringe the boy rolls his eyes as if done with the conversation. "Mom died and now you're trying to compensate by locking me up in this stupid Citadel." Noctis states without taking a breath. The prince stares at his father's openly hurt expression with bored eyes and firmly pressed lips.

"Sorry." Noctis offers the artificial apology out of obligation. The boy also lifts the graceful dip of his shoulders into a noncommittal shrug.

Regis rubs at his temple, pained by the erratic youth.

"I said you could have anything within _reason._ I'm not compensating for anything Noctis. When you were nine—" The man's face falls in quick realization. "No that's not right is it?" Regis whispers to himself gently. "Nine.... Or were you eight?"

The king looks up at his son in fragile confusion. Regis takes these few seconds to refocus himself.

"I know for a fact you almost _died_ in that Marilth attack Niflehiem launched. I thought you were never going to wake up."

Regis still doesn't sound very sure of himself despite knowing that he had watched his son die in front of him.

Noctis shakes his head, taking this moment of uncertainty and weponizing it. A surly grin finds it's way onto his face as he stretches forward and places a hand on his father's cheek. The man's skin is soft under Noctis' touch. The teenager can't help but to think about how the skin would break and tear not unlike soft leather underneath a knife. It's the thought of his father's warm blood pooling underneath his body and hugging him so tenderly, that _excites_ Noctis beyond reason.

But like any other thought it comes and goes quickly.

Regis is distracted by how gentle his son's hands are caressing his face. The looks up at Noctis' cloudy eyes and tries pulling away.

Noctis frowns, insincerely. Mocking what the prince thought real sympathy to be.

"You must be confused again, dad. It wasn't that bad." The prince's voice melts like butter; sounding as if he was coaxing a small child rather than a king, no less his own father. The prince confidently seizes his father's hands into his own, eyeing Regis' finger where the ring whispered to itself. Noctis clicks his tongue, irritability. "It's not your fault, it's the ring's." He calls out snapping his eyes back up to clash against Regis'

"It's mixing up things in your memory."

"Noctis—"

Regis reaches out to his son, but Noctis evades the wandering touch. He maneuvers around the chairs blocking his way with little to no grace.

"I have to go. Gladio's gonna tattle on me to Iggy if I'm late to training... _Again._ " The boy pulls away watching as Regis' expression falls.

"Of course, my star. Be safe."

A cheeky grin. "Always."

* * *

_Sylva Nox Fluret looked at the boy with uncertainty. Her hands wavered over his broken frame as light illuminated her palms. The Lucian healers were good at what they do. She was suprised to find they were able to relieve the prince of the flesh wounds he suffered from the daemon attack, but the remaining injuries were too advanced and needed her expert care._

_"Blessed be, by the light of the star." Sylva whispers the incantation of healing and health, praying it do the boy some good._

_The oracle hadn't seen the Lucian prince since he was a newborn baby; clinging to her ceremonial robes as she blessed him in front of the entire world. These were the first moments that the oracle had actually gotten to peer directly into the boy's spirit; past his body and flesh. What she found out was still startling to her even eight years later._

_When children are born they never failed to light a room up, as if they were the sun purging the land of darkness and blight with innocence and love._

_For a newborn child, just a few days old, Noctis had been void of any sort of brilliant light._

_The prince_ _was empty. Where his light_ _ **should**_ _have been there_ _was nothing. He was a husk that was chilling to look directly into. Sylva knew something about the boy was a stray, but the woman couldn't bring herself to alert the grieving king all those years ago._

_The oracle knew that in his heart Regis was good. A innocent type of good that was easily conquered and taken advantage of. It had always been that way even when the king was just a boy. So how had he managed to create a son that was a conduit of evil?_

_Sylva shivers at the memory. Her eyes fall down to the child before her. Even now Sylva Nox Fluret could feel the nihility of the boy's soul underneath her fingertips. A vacuum sucking in her healing light and suffocating it._

_The void had grown larger since she last saw Noctis as a newborn._

_Sylva retracts her hands, exhaustion sweeping over her body like a tidal wave._

_"That's all I can do for now."_

* * *

Gladiolus giggles like a girl when Ignis comes to pick Noctis up from training that afternoon. Noctis is caught off guard when his uptight advisor laughs at Gladiolus' stupid jokes. The two make small talk; interrupting eachother every second with words that stumble out awkwardly. They laugh at the interruption in a bemused and lighthearted way, urging eachother to continue on what they were saying.

The sight of the two talking makes Noctis feel an uncomfortable amount of emotion. It bulids up in his chest, like a crescendo climbing up higher and higher becoming tighter and tighter threatening to _**burst**_ underneath the pressure. Noctis and Gladiolus were never set on good terms, they were more like wartime halted by a armistice threatening to buckle underneath close encounters.

Noctis usually disregarded Gladio, but the man was talking to _his_ property. Ignis was supposed to pay attention to _him_ _, not flirting with this stupid shield reject._ Gladiolus was a needless distraction; not even good one.

"Iggy, Come on! I wanna get back to my room! I have a list of things I want for my birthday. "

The teen whines to his advisor, pulling at the man's sleeve like a demanding child would do to their mother. Ignis gives Noctis a steady glance, looking over him like an embarrassed parent being pulled away by a bratty child at a social outing.

"Why don't you go yourself Noct, I'll meet you there." The man suggests. Noctis wrinkles his nose at the proposal. "No, that's dumb, you shouldn't be left here making goo-goo eyes. You have to listen to me and I want you to come with me to my room."

Noctis knows Ignis is intelligent. Afterall it takes alot of intellect to be _his_ advisor. Yet, the teen still lays it out in simple terms because the man seemed to be struggling with his comprehension skills.

Gladio offers the prince an antagonized stare. Ignis must catch on to what his charge is saying, because he smiles politely; going back to being mechanical and reserved.

"Very well, I'll see you around Gladio." The comes out like a sad whimper, covered by a poor poker face.

"Likewise." The shield forces out through clenched teeth.

\--------

"So what type of cake do you want for the party, your highness?" Ignis asks on Monday after an intensive council reading.

Noctis flips the page in his comic, acting disinterested for someone who threw a fit about the color of his birthday banner yesterday.

"Noctis?" Ignis prompts with a irritated tone.

"Vanilla with blue buttercream frosting." Noctis answers dryly.

Ignis nods, sitting down and recording Noctis' distinct wants for his birthday on the pad of paper to his right.

"Alright." The man adjusts his glasses, looking over the notes he made. "I think that's everything. I'll start the preparations tomorrow morning." The advisor looks up, expecting a reply from his leige. All he got was a grumble, and the crinkling sound of Noctis turning another page in the deluxe edition of the newest comic that the prince was ranting about lately.

It took Ignis three stores to find that one book. The advisor was just happy Noctis was seemingly enjoying the reading material, even if the material in question was more pictures than actual text.

* * *

It's an invasion string of thoughts about his father that have Noctis up at night staring brazenly at the impending darkness shrouding his room. The boy wasn't sure what to make of the thoughts, they were always fleeting, never something he necessarily spend alot of time analyzing. _"What if I stabbed myself or ran in front of that car?"_ Simple things. 

Yet, tonight while laying in bed the thoughts were viciously attacking him.

The murder-y ones weren't as bad as the sexual ones. Sex was something transient to Noctis. He knew what it was by eight, in full detail. (The teen still couldn't explain today where he had learned those in-depth details from.)

Just like everything else Sex was something Noctis did not think about alot despite his manic masturbation habits. Still, with his upcoming birthday the prince has caught himself actively looking at people in vague _sexual_ tones unconsciously.

No one was safe. Not even his own father.

They started simple enough. _"I wonder what dad looks like orgasming"_ was the first of many.

It escalated quickly into wondering what it would be like taking the _king_ into his mouth like those raunchy pornstars. Noctis begun asking himself if it would feel heavy and warm at the back of his throat without even realizing it. There were so many Sexual ones. Leaving him lost and confused. What would it feel like buried _inside_ his father moving at an impossible speed rearranging the kings guts. The man would moan while fisting the silken sheets underneath him, taking his fucking in stride.

Noctis' dick uncontrollably twitches at that thought. The boy unceremoniously shoves a pillow between his aching legs and forces his face down into the mattress. The thoughts swarm him like a hoard. No matter what he does they buzz into his ears filling his head with unwanted pictures and reactions.

Some of them were violent. Violent enough to merge the line between the two. 

Slashing his father's throat and watching the life drain from his eyes as he rides his corpse.

His father skull-fucking him.

His father raping him, making him feel so impossibly full underneath the light of the Astral and not stopping. Noctis' pleas fall to deaf ears as the man slams into the boy making everything _hurt and bleed_.

"Shut up." He whispers yet they don't go away. "Shutup _shutupshutupshutp_." He pleas desperate for a silent night.

Only the appearance of the sun lulls the violent collection of thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noctis... what the fawk?
> 
> I jest. Thank you for your support! I appreciate all of your comments and kudos' 
> 
> This chapter made me feel some things toward the end so I felt it would be best to put up a warning just in case 💙


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has to look away, because he thinks his father can see what his mind is screaming at him, what his body wants to touch and do without his permission.

It was a universal fact that people online were _idiots_ , yet in his desperate attempt to understand his _peculiar_ onset of issues Noctis reluctantly turned to the anonymity of the internet for advise and knowledge. It was a terrible idea really. Noctis was unable to sleep as he scrolls through the endless articles of useless information.

The sun creeps up through the tired corners of the horizon, turning the sky a dark monotonous shade of pink as night slowly transitions into day. It was that lonely time of day. When the early risers were still in bed and the late night partiers had finally gone to sleep. It was that time of day when the world seemed dead and nothing spoke in fear of disturbing the peace. 

Noctis pries his eyes away from the window and casually rubs at them. He's been awake for far too long with nothing to show for it except the dead-weight underneath his eyes.

"Fuck it." Whispers the teen. Brazenly, he leans forward typing " _thinking about fucking my father"_ into the searchbar of his laptop. The prince waits a lomg time after he enters the search, a brooding silence stretches across the room; anticipating something terrible to happen. Noctis' eyes do a passover glance at the closed door to his right. Part of the boy knows that his bedroom door wasn't going to be kicked in by a heavy boot anytime soon, but that childish fear still resides in the far reaches of his mind.

Finally, the teen feels comfortable enough to look down at the search results. There was one that caught his eye.

_I'm twenty and lately I've been experiencing unwanted thoughts._

Curiously, the teen clicks the link to the rest of the entry.

_Some are violent in nature others are sexual. I've never had these types of thoughts before, but they started a little over a week ago. Nobody is safe from being the subject of these inappropriate imaginings. Not me or my family. I'm not homosexual in anyway, and yet I've been having thoughts of doing explict and wrong things with and to my father. My father is a good man. Never has he done anything wrong to me to warrant such extreme thoughts._

_I'm scared of telling people about this in fear of being ridiculed but I'm being overwhelmed._

Noctis closes his eyes and sighs through his nose, a moment of peace. Finally, something actually reflexive of him and his issues. The child peers through the comments of the post and incomprehensible rage bubbled above his throat and behind his eyes. 

|ArchangelVibez

**Sounds like intrusive thoughts. Everything is fine as long as you don't act on them.**

|Chocobococoa

**You should get checked up on by a mental health expert. DO NOT TELL YOUR FATHER IN DETAIL ABOUT YOUR THOUGHTS! You should tell him you've been having odd thoughts and that's all**

**|ClapBahamutscheeks37💃 replied to** _**Chocobococoa** _   
_A therapist? No he needs the Astrals. Sounds like excuses you fucking FREAK._

Noctis rolled his eyes at the last one. Yeah, totally _ClapBahamutCheeks37._

Noctis scrolls through most unhelpful comments before deciding that maybe the best place to look for answers wasn't on the comment section of someone's random crisis post. Noctis doesn't have time to re-evaluate, because the door to his room swings open without warning.

The prince panics, shutting his laptop in haste and throwing his arms over the top in a defensive posture.

Ignis walks in with his typical grace, he raises an eyebrow at the peculiarities demonstrated by the prince but he doesn't ask the boy to explain himself. Placing his bag at the foot of the the teen's bed Ignis watches Noctis, analyzing the boys red eyes and the blue luggage underneath his eyes.

"Is everything alright your highness?" The advisor asks slowly, as if talking to a animal. The older male adjusts his tie and glasses as he waits for a reply.

"Uh, yeah Iggy." Noctis manages to cough out feeling a cold chill run through him as Ignis casts a wayward glance down at the laptop.

"How long have you been up?" Ignis watches Noctis's body for signs of deception.

_Damn. What is with the third degree?_ Noctis looks down at the sleek and newly polished shoes Ignis was wearing.

"Not that long. A few hours maybe? I haven't really been to bed yet."

Noctis shrugs as if it was no big deal. Even while knowing he is going to get hell for it. It only takes a few beats for Ignis to give him a stern, albeit, worried frown. The spectacled man reaches over, holding the back of his hand to the boy's head. Iggy's touch is— hard to explain— almost flowery and dramatic like a woman's.

"You aren't warm. Are you alright? Any soreness in your joints?" Ignis takes the boy's face into his palms. "Are you _hurt_?"

Noctis hastily smacks his advisor's touchy hands away. "I'm fine Ignis, gods!" The man has the gall to pull away, offended. Ignis regains control of himself, clearing his throat noiselessly.

"Very well. I just need to make sure you are ready for the gala today."

"What gala?"

Noctis wasn't sure if it was his panic, but he hadn't remembered anyone mentioning any kind of party today. Ignis' expression dropped and that freaky maternal worry is back.

"Noctis. Today is your _birthday_."

* * *

Lunch is served after piano lessons as it always was. The dining room was set with the fine silver as opposed to the usual dull gold. " _Silver on a prince's birthday is a Caelum tradition."_

"Your highness." One of the twenty same faced servants bow before the boy, greeting Noctis at the wide doors before scurrying away. The boy disregards the man with a turned head and a snotish sneer.

The dining room walls were paved in shiny silver with decade old intricate designs carved into them. The huge mohagany table that was same as it has been since Noctis was a child stood tall in the middle of the spacious room; decorated by the twenty black, almost brown, fancy maroon chairs that lined both sides of the table.

Noctis's feet echo underneath the Ivory floor as he approaches the center of the room. His father has yet to show up. 

The chandeliers were unlit; hung at the highest point of the painted ceiling. It was so high that Noctis remembered getting sick from staring up at the ceiling for too long when he was only four. He had been mesmerized by the sight.

The ceiling appeared black in the light of the afternoon sun, but only when the chandeliers were lit in the dark did the painting come to life as a night sky with endless stars. They only turned the chandeliers on when it was a special occasion.

Tonight, the chandeliers would watch as this dining room filled with people celebrating _him._ It was almost _unreal_.

A tightness winds in his chest, as the crushing realization of _oh my gods I'm Thirteen._ Sets in.

Noctis only begins breathing again when a heavy hand is placed on his shoulder. He doesn't even have to turn around to know who it is. The prince tenses, only slightly as he grows used to the touch. The hand slides off of his shoulder as unnaturally as it could.

"Noctis?"

"Dad," Noctis whispers as he turns feeling irrationally giddy and high spirited in his gut. Yet his exterior was cold and sweaty all at the same time. He scratchs at his exposed skin when he meets his father's eyes. He hasn't seen the man in days.

"Noctis are you okay?" His father asks with the same parental concern Ignis has shown earlier in his room. It was like they were fine tuned to him or something. Noctis feels so small, as if he were suddenly see through and his father could see everything within him.

Noctis looks up, meeting the man's eyes.

 _Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me please please please touch_ _me_ _touch me touch me I'll do anything fuck me—_ He has to look away, because he thinks his father can see what his mind is screaming at him, what his body wants to touch and do without his permission.

His gaze averts to his hands, which are fidgeting with something and nothing.

"I'm fine." He answers, as to not worry the man anymore, but the thoughts are still there just mufled.

"Well! You're finally Thirteen." His father chortled at him with a sunny smile, as if growing up was something needing praise.

Noctis finds himself staring at the man as if he were a stranger to him, despite knowing the man his whole life. Regis is so close Noctis can smell his father's unbranded cologne. It has the distinct and pleasing fragrance of an aromatic balm. Mild and friendly. It's familliar yet so _strange_.

Noctis eyed Regis boldly. He can't help but stare at his father's hand where the ring pressed against his skin. Regis' hands are bigger than Noctis' own. Somehow that particular realization sends a confusing rush of adrenaline up the teenager's spine. The feeling was dangerous when paired with the giddiness in his gut.

"Noctis? Are you listening to me?"

The boy looks up and hides behind his fringe in embarrassment. "Yeah." His face feels too warm, like it'll melt off.

"Come here."

His father ushers him to a seat, sliding the padded chair comfortably along the ivory floor. "I'm not as young as I was, standing for far too long is exhausting. Now let's talk about your gift." Regis sighs, looking aged yet regal. Noctis has the irrational need to get on his knees and _worship_ the man like he deserves. Noctis barely blinks as the thought passes.

"I have discussed extensively with Ignis, and Gladiolus and the council. This is a huge responsibility, but I believe you are mature enough to handle it. Everything is being finalized this week. It is, to my knowledge, next week when you will be attending normal schooling at a private academy not too far away from the citadel."

Noctis doesn't know what to say. His face hurts. "Thank you." Is all he can manage.

"Alright, then." Regis nods mostly to himself as an affirmation. "Let's eat." Regis tries to rub the prince's shoulder but the boy dodges him.

* * *

Noctis was a troubled kid. Even Regis wasn't blind to that. It's nothing new to the boy, that's his normal persona. Withdrawn, with an uneasy rage quick to set off if you weren't careful. Yet, something was different. The boy hadn't reacted to the news of going to school...At all. Regis was prepared for elation, and even anger yet the emotionless "thank you" he got astonished him.

His child couldn't even look at him, he was only met with uneasy silence from the boy.

"What are you thinking so hard about now?" Clarus questions, holding a glass of iced Leide Bourbon. The shield sets it down on his king's desk watching as the man greedily takes the bourbon into his hands like a thirsty beggar in one-hundred degree heat.

"Thank you for this my friend." Regis replies after another lengthy sip. "And if you really should know, I'm thinking of my son."

Clarus raises an eyebrown in earnest curiosity. "What has the prince done now? Make off with the royal jewls and announced that he is running away?" The two share a laugh. Once that dies down Regis sets the rest of the bourbon down. A grave expression outlines his face.

"No, he's acting strangely. As if purposely going out of his way to ignore me."

Clarus throws his head back in a laugh. Even going as far as to wrap a arm around his stomach. Regis tries to remain serious, but his serious expression shatters into joy. He couldn't help it, Clarus' laugh was contagious.

"What?" The king finally asks as the laughing fit subsides.

"He's a teenager now, Regg. He's bound for moody seas and you're bound for being subjected to unfathomable cruelty and disregard. Happy sailing." Clarus raises the glass as a toast and downs the rest of it. Leaving a burn behind his throat and eyes.

Regis smiles, but feels himself grow cold. Cruelty and disregard, _how long might that last?_

* * *

"Get up kid, just because it's your birthday doesn't mean you can flake out on your conditioning."

"Everything hurts."

"Yeah, I believe you." Obvious sarcasm.

Noctis rolls his eyes. It wasn't like the simple minded creature known as Gladiolus Amicita could understand..

The man had grown into a solid behemoth in just a few years. He was twenty-one; standing at a solid 6'1 with glowing olive colored skin that was always perfectly sunkissed. His hair was longer than an average male's, but it was also well-taken care of. Gladio also had a defined jaw speckled in facial hair and a handsomely sculpted face.

Yet, Noctis hadn't found himself attracted to the man. At all. Maybe because he was the definition of all muscle and no brain.

"Come on, you think I wanna be here." Gladio nudged the boy with his shoe.

Noctis could feel the pain from his lower back acting up and sending a searing pain throughout his entire body, sparking at the tailbone and traveling to the base of the brain. Noctis feels like curling up with a heating pad on his back and a couple thousand pain killers.

Noctis' pain is usually subjective to Gladiolus. Not real until proven otherwise, but the way the boy curled in on himself must have been insightful enough to make Gladio set aside the spiteful part of himself aside.

"Fine." The man sighs, laying down next to the boy. "Let's just stay here for the rest of training."

* * *

The Gala after dinner is the most exhausting part of the day. Music from the orchestra plays to a low mezzo-piano as stuck up aristocratic assholes wish Noctis a Happy Birthday.

It was nice at first, but once the eighth woman came up to shake your hand with pearls the size of eos on her wrist it lost It's charm.

The prince eyed where his father's table sat above all the rest, along with four heads of the most powerful families that travelled from across the lucian region to be here today. His dad seemed to be having a good time a least. When the man smiled crows feet blossomed at the corner's of his eyes. How had Noctis never noticed that before?

"Are you going to eat that?"

Noctis turned his attention to his own helpless company. The Barclay boy, Dux. He was a stout older boy from the Barclay house who ate too much and had grubby fingers that dug into the hot fondue on his plate that he had percured from an unknown source. The cheese trickled down both of his chins in a way that made Noctis feel ill. The boy belonged in the barn, he had the manners of a untrained pig. Dux had no aristocratic bone in his gods forsaken body.

"No." Noctis answers with a repellent smile. He wanted nothing to do with the egregious boy. Slowly, Noctis used his pinky to slide the plate over to the boy who hummed in pleasure at the slice of chocolate on chocolate cake. The exact opposite of what the prince had asked for.

Noctis hated chocolate cake anyway.

"Prince Noctis."

Noctis looked up to meet eyes with the youngest Ayer. Ignis told him about the girl. Her name was Mary and her father was as rich as they come. Donations were made to the kingdom funds religiously. Their family was meant to be kissed on the ass along with the Barclay's. Gods damn it all.

He forces a pleasant smile upon his lips. "Hello, you're Mary right?" Noctis offered his hand as a courtesy. The girl grasped his hands into her own and gave the sweetest smile that made Noctis a little queasy. Her hair was blonde, but not as blonde as Luna's. _Luna..._ Noctis felt a sharp vexation when he thought of the girl. Her birthday wishes to him had been rushed. A sloppy mess and overall embarrassment that Noctis wanted nothing to do with.

"Why yes. I am Mary! My brother has been keeping me away all night but I finally snuck away. I knew this could be my only chance to speak with you!"

Noctis knows he should feel flattery, but he doesn't. He's over this, the night has dragged on long enough. His father hasn't given him nearly enough attention and his mood has been spoilted by the Barclay brat. The girl, Mary, stares at him as if he were her sun and moon. Noctis doesn't know what to think about that.

Dux saves him the plight of actually talking to the girl. The boy attempts to clean up by rubbing the extra cheese off on his _too-tight_ tuxedo and offering his still dirtied hand to the lofty girl. "Dux Barclay." He introduces himself with a unrealistically large smile still filled with frosting. "Do you have any cake?" The boy licks his lips. Mary reels away from the boy, staring at him wide eyed as if he were a unnaturally large rat that had suddenly mutated into three (Noctis had seen that in a cartoon when he was younger)

"Have you no manners?" She questions defensively, holding her hand to her chest away from Dux.

"I do!" Dux pouted, obviously offended by something the girl had said. "I offered my hand didn't I?" Dux leans back in his chair, smiling snootily at the younger girl.

"It's covered in cheese you bafoon!"

Noctis excuses himself, suprised at how easy it was to sneak out of his own party.

\------

"Noctis left. He seemed upset. Gladio said he saw him going in the fourth conference room" Clarus observes. Regis looks over at his son's table where the Barclay child and Ayer girl were arguing amongst themselves. "Do you want me to retrieve him?" It's a question Regis answers assertively.

"No, I will do it."

Regis slips away from the duchess with a empty promises and sweet talk. She releases him from her claws temporarily, her scarlet lip curls cruelly as she does. "I'll be expecting an answer your Majesty." Her voice grates against the air.

"Of course." Regis responds cheerlessly

That woman gave Regis the creeps.

The hallways were dark, lit only by the light of the moon. The darker the night, the sweeter the moon seemed to sing. Tonight she was quiet, humming a sullen Lullaby. The night had always been soothing to Regis, something that wrapped him up in generous velvet and comforted him. Regis stops in front of the conference room the knock echoes.

"Noctis? I'm coming in," Regis announces, giving Noctis time enough to process the information before he pushes the door open. Regis hated the way the conference rooms turned into voids at night. The king switches on the light, eyes focusing to the hoy in the center of the room underneath the round table. The man sighs. "Noctis, what are you doing? You shouldn't be in here sulking on a day as precious as your birth."

The boy is quiet, not looking up to meet his father's eyes.

Regis crosses the room, stern in his approach. "What's wrong? Can you look at me starlight?" A name Regis hasn't used in some time, but still weights heavy with love. That seems to shake Noctis.

The prince shakes his head.

"It's bad, dad."

"What is Noctis?" Another stretch of silence. Slowly, Regis bends down reaching out to his son, trying to comfort the child as best he could but the boy moves away. Regis sigh, mildly irritated. "You have to talk to me Noctis. Are you injured?"

"No." The word comes out softly.

"Noctis, you are not three. Use your words," Regis chastises the boy, hoping to shake him. It does nothing.

"I..."

Noctis looks up, briefly their eyes connect and it must break the child. He doesn't cry, yet his tone reminds Regis of shatter remains of something once magnificent. 

"When I'm around you. I... I get excited. " Noctis squirms uncomfortably. "I keep thinking about... You having _sex with_ me."  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohh this chapter was published on Noctis' birthday today what a coincidence hmmm. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! This chapter is so frickening longg.


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